Hope is Not Lost
by sensanity
Summary: for a kinkmeme prompt. Dirk visits Jake's island AU.


The first time they kiss is pure _magic _for Dirk.

He's been on Jake's island for almost a week, after years of planning and promises of a visit and obstacles hurdled, finally, they are in the same place, and it takes all of Dirk's self control not to throw himself at the other boy. After days of subtle flirting, brief touches of hands, and just about everything Dirk can think of, he can't take it anymore. He grab's Jake's shirt to hold him in place, and leans in.

The softness of Jake's lips, the tiny, surprised gasp and his warm breath, the way Jake leans into him _just slightly _with a soft, needy whine, all of it is almost too much for Dirk. He can barely believe he's finally here, after all this time. _Kissing Jake._

Dirk doesn't think he's ever been this happy in his life. Not even close. There's no contest, really.

That is, until Jake's eyes fly wide open and he jerks back, as if he's been burned. His eyes search Dirk's - for what, he isn't sure - but he must not have found it, because his hand makes a _smacking _noise when it fliesup to cover his mouth and his cheeks flush darker, and he turns tail and sprints off in the opposite direction faster than Rainbow Dash.

Dirk stands there, unable to move, for several moments. He almost forgets to breathe, his stomach clenching in horrible knots,_thinkingthinkingcalculating what does this MEAN does he hate me now oh god whathaveidone_ until he remembers the way Jake had _leaned into the kiss. _

Hope is not lost. Not yet.

He will keep trying.

He will _always_ keep trying.

* * *

Two days later, Dirk's patience and perseverance pay off. After cutting way back on the flirting and giving Jake space for fear of freaking him out even more, Jake pauses in his gallivanting through the woods in search of adventure every time he runs into Dirk just long enough to look him in the eye, and Dirk is sure his ribcage expands several inches from the force of his heartbeat hammering away inside the cage of his ribs. And then Jake smiles.

It's small, and it's weak, but it's _there. _He doesn't hate him.

Dirk can breathe again, because when Jake doesn't look at him, doesn't acknowledge him, well.

He might as well be dead.

* * *

"Let's watch a movie, old chap!"

Jake's suggestion, a few days later, comes out of nowhere, and Dirk is caught slightly off-guard as Jake claps a strong, tanned hand on his shoulder. "Movie?" he asks, barely able to keep the hesitation, the hope, the longing out of his voice. But he can't let Jake see any of it, not now. He won't push Jake farther than he's comfortable, never again.

"You heard me, you great buffoon! Yes, a movie. I have a spectacular one in mind, and I simply refuse to accept 'no' as a response!" Jake dashes off for the living room with his boundless energy, completely unable to contain his excitement. Dirk follows somewhat more somberly, because he knows exactly how difficult this evening is going to be, he senses it in his bones. Like an oncoming storm, a violent tempest charging the air. One that will blow him away if he does not lock himself securely in the basement, with cement walls and earth all around him. Secure.

Dirk takes a deep breath. Enters the room with the giant TV.

Dirk almost chokes on a gasp when he enters and Jake jumps out from behind and tries to tackle him to the ground.

"English!" Dirk yelps - actually _yelps, _fuck him with a smuppet - as the force of Jake's weight sends Dirk stumbling forward several steps. Dirk feels his blood course through him when he hears Jake's voice, right in his ear, inches away:

"Gotcha, mate! Need to learn to keep your guard up, you never know what's lurking nearby!" Jake gives a deep, throaty chuckle that Dirk feels against his back, shuddering down his spine, and Dirk can barely contain a groan.

Jake lets go after that, having made the point to his satisfaction, only to have Dirk turn to face him, their noses inches apart. Jake's breath hitches and his eyelids flutter as he stares at Dirk's mouth, his lips, and remembers. Remembers Dirk's mouth, on his, and his hands, which were everywhere, the weird gelled texture of his hair, clutching his muscled arms -

"Right, I'll go get the tape!" Jake blurts, turning abruptly away to rummage through a cabinet. Dirk has to turn away, nearly bangs his head against the wall, but doesn't. He can't let this defeat him. If Jake really doesn't want that kind of relationship... if he is pulling away because he really doesn't feel the same way Dirk does, well, he'll just have to back off, won't he? Jake is his friend first, his crush second. He will respect Jake's wishes, no matter the cost, because Jake's happiness is far more important than anything Dirk feels.

Even though he's not sure he could make it through this in one piece. He will try anyway. For Jake.

So Dirk gathers up his bruised, battered emotions, shoves them where he hopes they won't bother him (maybe if he keeps telling himself he'll be fine, he will eventually believe it). Sits on the couch, on the end farthest from the cabinet that Jake's head is still buried inside. Concentrates on his breathing, because breathing is safe, steady. Essential to life, and all that. He draws comfort from the regularity and the simple necessity of each breath.

Jake finally emerges from the cabinet, putting an actual video tape - how quaint - into a decrepit-looking VCR and settling on the couch.

Right. Next. To Dirk.

There is a whole fucking other half to the goddamn fucking couch, and Jake is _right there, _perched next to him, one knee drawn up to his chest, their thighs almost touching.

Dirk thinks he might _scream._

Then Jake has the _gonads _to push it even further when he throws an arm up on the back of the couch, behind Dirk, his hand brushing lightly against the back of Dirk's next, and Dirk lets out the tiniest, choked off half-sob as his restraint crumbles.

"Strider?" Jake asks, turning to face him. "Are you all ri-mmmgfn!"

Dirk's hands are in Jake's hair, pulling Jake towards him, and then their lips come crashing together. It's a little bit painful - Dirk can't seem to hold himself back - but the pain soon fades in the wake of other sensations, and Dirk climbs clumsily into Jake's lap, his hands traveling to Jake's shirt, sneaking under the hem, touching as much skin as he can possibly reach. His senses are overwhelmed with the feel of Jake's slightly chapped lips, the glorious, soft but somewhat rough texture of them, and the earthy, musky scent that is just pure_Jake._

And after a moment of hesitation, of uncertainty, Jake begins to return the kiss. He slowly raises his hands to rest on Dirk's shoulders, brushing a finger lightly, uncertainly, against the edge of Dirk's jaw, and Dirk's chest gives an aching squeeze at the contact. Of Jake, reciprocating, however little. Dirk will take it.

He inches, little by little, further into Jake's arms until their bodies are pressed flushed together. Dirk is rapidly becoming hard, and when he cants his hips forward and meets Jake's, he lets out a groan deep in his chest, and Jake jumps back again, breaking the kiss.

"Great gorgon's left testicl- I mean _tentacle, _what the flip is wrong with me - fucking hell on toast, Dirk, would you mind terribly removing your extremely able-bodied self from the unfortunate location of my bloody _lap_?"

Dirk's throat clenches as he slides himself off of Jake's lap at his desperate, very distressed expression, a sinking feeling settling around his middle, regret threatening to crush him with its weight. He is still slightly out of breath, and as Jake leaps to his feet and busies himself at the table on the other side of the room - cleaning his gun, from the sound of the clinking metal and the thump of what must've been the clip hitting the table - Dirk gives in and buries his head in his hands.

Jake was freaked. Jake avoided him. Then Jake flirts with him! Jake doesn't have an issue with personal space. Jake apparently isn't into makeout sessions. Dirk no longer knows what to think. Confusion and _need _and self-loathing at his lack of restraint whirl through his thoughts, each wave of emotion tearing through him and leaving him feeling hollow and defeated.

Dirk recalls the time that Jake told him that, were he a creature of the womanly persuasion, he would date him in a heartbeat! He remembers with painful clarity the misery he had felt at that statement, lamenting the fact that he was not, in fact, a woman. He even stopped speaking to Jane and Roxy for a couple days because of it.

But then he decided that he would just have to show Jake how little a trivial thing like that mattered. He became single-mindedly determined to show Jake that men were just as appealing as women. And for a while, Jake seemed to be convinced.

So why was he persisting in dancing around him? Getting close, pulling back - it was a confusing mess of mixed signals. Dirk tried his best to avoid the possible reasons for Jake's behavior, but sometimes he couldn't help but consider the responses he might get.

_Sorry Dirk, I just don't feel that way about you!_

_My apologies, dear friend, but I'm afraid there is already another that has captured my affections._

_Terribly sorry, ol' chap, but you're just not my type!_

"English," Dirk says, suddenly rising to his feet with his eyes downcast, before flashstepping abruptly to Jake's side.

This time it's Jake's turn to yelp, and he drops the rag he's holding with a jerk of surprise, nearly falling of his stool, but Dirk catches the rag and places his other hand firmly on Jake's back, steadying him, and then tosses the rag on the table with a flick of his wrist, and it lands next to the pieces of the disassembled gun.

"S-Strider! Blimey, what on Earth was that for? Is it entirely necessary that you do the speedy... _teleporty_ thing when you're barely five meters from me?"

Dirk notes Jake's ears, which are bright red, as Jake busies himself gathering the dissected gun, eyes directed stubbornly at the table, Dirk's hand still placed lightly on his lower back. Jake pulls all the pieces into a pile, with no apparent purpose, because it would've been much easier to put the weapon back together if he'd left them like they were, neatly organized on the table.

Dirk would frown, if he did unnecessary things like make actual expressions. "What's going on?"

Jake gestures wildly at the air in front of him, sputtering.

"Well, I _was _trying to perform some basic hygiene for my favorite weapon, which, to be quite frank, has gotten a great deal of use lately and could certainly use a good scrub and perhaps an oil as well-"

"English, you know that's not what I meant."

Jake hesitates, but only for a moment. "What's with the last name all of a sudden, _Strider_? It's beginning to feel rather impersonal, you know, it's almost like you don't want to use first names or something-"

"_Jake._"

Jake hunches over, his head bowing forward slightly. Withdrawn. Dirk instantly regrets the harsh tones, but he doesn't know how else to get Jake to stop bullshitting him, because it's just _too much_.

"Jake," he says, softer, kneeling down to look up at Jake's face, which is still bright red. "What's wrong?" Jake raises his head just enough to meet Dirk's eyes, his shoulders slumping even more when he sees the expression on Dirk's face.

"Bloody hell," Jake curses, and this time, it's Jake that initiates the kiss.

Dirk's surprise only lasts a fraction of a second before he is pulling Jake into him, holding him tightly, refusing to let Jake go. He can't run away this time, he just _can't._

But Jake seems to have no intention of stopping things this time, instead deepening the kiss desperately, hands everywhere, touching, stroking, pulling, like he's afraid to slow down. And Dirk, for once, stops thinking.

They're falling over each other and stumbling into the walls as they seem to simultaneously decide that there is a much better room in the house to be engaging in these sorts of activities.

Dirk pulls back a tiny bit so he can see the handle of the door to Jake's room and get the damn thing open, and Jake makes up for the loss of lips by attacking Dirk's neck, kissing up his jaw, nipping at the shell of his ear. Jake's breathing is heavy in Dirk's ear, and he can't help the moan that bubbles out of his throat at the sound and the feeling of Jake's warm breath ghosting across his neck.

Jake's hips jerk forward at the sound, and Dirk is suddenly very aware of just how hard Jake is.

He finally gets the door open and collapses on top of Jake on the bed, grinding ruthlessly into him, but it's not enough, not _nearly _enough these damn clothes are _in the way get them out._

He reaches for the waistline of Jake's pants, and Jake complies instantly, lifting his ass off the bed just enough to slide them down, and then reaching for Dirk's jeans when Dirk's attention remains on the firmness of Jake's rear.

Dirk feels like he's waiting for the moment that he crosses the line, that it goes too far again and Jake bolts.

He cuts off this line of thought quickly, and instead drags his hands up Jake's sides, scratching slightly, and revels in the shudder that wracks through Jake, the strangled groan, the way his eyelids flutter closed briefly before he's too close to see, because he's pressed his face up against Dirk's again, his tongue exploring Dirk's mouth, everywhere at once, warm and wet.

It's clumsy and slightly awkward, but Dirk doesn't give the tiniest of fucks because it's _Jake_ so it's adorable and _perfect_.

Dirk eventually gets fed up with having to reach under Jake's shirt and divests him of the article, Dirk's shirt only moments behind, and now all that's left if their underwear - Jake's green boxers, already with a slightly damp spot in the front, and Dirk's orange briefs, which have also been drier.

Dirk palms Jake through his underwear, not too hard but certainly not gentle, and delights in the loudest groan he's gotten out of Jake yet, feels Jake's fingers dig into his arms.

But when he reaches for the waistline of Jake's boxers, he hesitates, staring at his hand. He can't stop the flood of doubt, of aching need battling with the knowledge that if Jake runs again he'll be crushed, and fierce desire to protect Jake, all at war within him.

"Dirk," Jake pants, his skin slick with sweat. "_Please_."

The last shred of self control holding back Dirk snaps with an almost audible sound, and he practically tears away the article of clothing, running his thumb over Jake's tip to try to slick it up with the precome budding there, and then wrapping his hand around Jake's dick and beginning to stroke.

Jake by now is a complete mess, his hair standing up in unusual (_fucking precious_) ways, muttering incomplete and barely coherent phrases.

"_Dirk_ yes golly wow geez, please more, ohh don't stop, Dirk my- _oohhh hell friggin' yes _please I-_hnnnng_," Jake gives a rough, strangled moan as Dirk dips his head and then drags his tongue up Jake's length, smirking slightly as he watches what he's reduced Jake to.

He continues to pump Jake with his hand, up and down, getting faster, lamenting the fact that he doesn't have any lube on him when Jake suddenly pauses in his constant stream of half-nonsense to look to his left and grunts out, "table-" and tries to motion towards it, but has to stop halfway through because _"Dirk!"._

Dirk gets the message anyway, giving Jake another firm squeeze before he flashsteps over and then is back in an instant, lube already slicked over his fingers, rubbing it against them to warm it up. Jake makes use of the pause to raise his hands to cover his face, his ears burning and his neck flushed a darker color than normal, obscuring the light dusting of freckles he has on his shoulders, which is a shame. But Dirk isn't having any of that. There's no way that Jake gets to hide his beautiful, gorgeous, perfect face.

Dirk reaches forward with his clean hand, gently prodding at Jake's arms, his other returning to Jake's still-leaking dick and slowly, gently working Jake back up to full hardness. Jake finally lowers his arms, and when he looks at Dirk he wraps them around Dirk's neck, pulling him down against him.

"Dirk," he begs, his voice barely above a whisper, burying his face in the space between Dirk's neck and shoulder.

"I'm right here," Dirk says, right in his ear, and Jake gives another soft shudder, and it's not long before Jake comes in Dirk's hand.

Jake offers to return the favor, but Dirk just shakes his head, and is gone after a minute of touching himself anyway as Jake just watches until Dirk collapses next to him on the bed, spent.

Jake wriggles under the covers and turns away from Dirk, but after a moment shuffles back until he's pressed into Dirk, and Dirk wraps his arm around Jake's middle and tucks Jake's head under his chin, holding him tight.

Jake drifts off with a soft, contented sigh, and Dirk places a kiss to the top of his head, still holding him tightly, and doesn't nod off for a while.

* * *

Dirk wakes several hours later, glancing around groggily before he remembers where he is.

Jake has squirmed out of his grasp, still facing the wall, and is trembling and whining softly. Dirk leans over him to try and make out the soft, jumbled words issuing in a steady stream from Jake's lips.

"Gran... where...? don'...don' leave... please, wake up... no, nonono Dirk not... again, don'...d'n'go, _pleasedon'godon'tleavemealone.._.."

"Not going anywhere, dipshit," Dirk says into Jake's ear, his voice betraying the pain and sadness and _understanding_ that are filling his chest and ripping, tearing, cutting off his breath before it can leave his lungs.

Instantly the trembling settles slightly into something less violent, and Jake turns his head slightly, his eyes opening a crack, and he makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat. Dirk wraps his arms around him.

"Right here," he says, and Jake burrows into Dirk's chest, warmth blooming there inside as well as out, and Jake slowly drifts off back to sleep, and this time, Dirk isn't far behind.


End file.
